Marianne Jo
by laffup
Summary: A conflicted ghost that has grown attached to a sullen boy tries to save a revolutionizing world by changing a certain God's perspective. "Sawada Tsuna. You are destined to either be the greatest of the good, or the lowest of the scum that history has ever had the misfortune of meeting. The choice of empowerment is up to you, and the world is in your hands." /R27/AU/deliberate OOC\


Title: Marianne Jo

Summary: A conflicted ghost that has grown attached to a sullen boy tries to save a revolutionizing world by changing a certain God's perspective.

"Sawada Tsuna. You are destined for either the greatest of the good, or the lowest of the scum that history has ever had the misfortune of meeting. The choice of empowerment is up to you, and the world is in your hands."

Pairing: Tsuna x Reborn…maybe. Not making any promises 'kay?

Warning: A new character and a gloomy setting. Have been reading too much fanfics by Metamorcy and listening to screamo J-pop. Help.

* * *

Chapter One

In which a ghost appeared

* * *

As she silently drifted around the hallway she couldn't help but notice how quiet the apartment was. The haunting ticking of a clock counting down its numbers and the small drops of water dripping from a kitchen tap echoed around the vacant space. Out of all the rooms she has inspected so far had the blinders and curtains shut, encasing the apartment in a gloomy atmosphere. It was cold; her vision was slightly darkened to a tinge of dark blue and her toes brushing across the carpet and timber floor felt oddly numb.

Wisps of long black hair matted in blood curled and floated around the drifting figure, occasionally disintegrating to dust as soon as dead strands that have been separated flitted to the ground. The swishing of a wedding gown and tiny beads clinking against one another came to a standstill as the ghost faced a door with a fish ornament hanging on a door knob.

Without a second of hesitation, the ghost floated through the door and frowned at what the sight greeted her with.

In a corner, a trio of boogies decked out in nineteenth century tailored suits with bowler hats adorned atop of their heads chattered to each other amicably and pleasantly, although a feral smile would occasionally be exchanged in a threatening manner. Familiar wails and sobs of bean sidhe's were heard from an adjoined bathroom who were no doubt foreseeing unfortunate deaths of innocent people, and gremlins scuttled about in where the darkness of the shadows was more prominent – their green glowing saucer-like eyes being a dead give-away.

Sensing the sudden power shift in the room, conversations and wails were abruptly cut short as the ebony haired ghost pointed out of the room in slight irritation.

"Out." She muttered.

A pack of dim gremlins were the first to scurry out of the room, leaving the dark shadows and scuttling across the walls and floors all the while being careful to not bump into or scrape their body against the ghost even though she was unable to register contact in her current state. Banshees filed out of the bathroom reluctantly and a few even directed a hollow glare as they brushed passed the ghost, yet didn't voice out their complaints in person. The boogies, being the gentleman they were, was the last to leave the room. However, one of the boogies hesitated in leaving, feeling slightly out of place.

"Madam," he tipped his bowler hat back and bowed in utmost respect, "I believe that-" Before he could finish his sentence, a pair of boogies stabbed their hands in his heart and stomach, piercing straight through his body and killing him almost immediately. A slight gasp escaped his parted lips and white oozing blood; looking creamy and thick in texture, pooled around where he was first standing and quickly stained the sleeves of the suit belonging to the remaining boogies. They both held him up and did a perfect ninety degree bow out of apology.

"Our sincerest regrets, Madam. Such acts shall occur in your presence no more." Slinging the dead boogie over their shoulders, they exited with heads drawn down and hat tipped forward in shame.

The ghost stared at the retreating men as they vanished into thin air for a few moments, eyeing the dust particles that floated about in their wake before snapping her gaze back to a queen sized bed situated in the middle of the room. A huddled form on the bed laid curled around himself with a blanket pulled over to the nape of his neck, and a bush of spiky hair bristled against the covers. Despite being swathed with heavy blankets and tucked into a tight ball, the human was shivering uncontrollably. Although the dimness of the room obstructed her view to an extent, she could see the tear marks staining the pillow beneath his small head. Even though he was face down with only a mop of brown hair in view, she could tell that his eyes were squeezed shut and that he wished to be in the arms of someone loving.

The ghost drifted towards the queen sized bed and hovered over the small figure, unsure what to do. For a moment she contemplated if she should sit next to the boy or not, before deciding that it didn't really matter and stayed standing.

"Oi." The boy didn't look up at her. In fact, he squeezed himself into a tighter ball. The lady sighed. What else would she expect from a frail boy like this?

"You don't have to be afraid, I already sent the monsters away." The ghost frowned to herself as she thought over as to what she said. It sounded as if she was the good guy and that she herself wasn't a monster which of course, was on the contrary.

The mop of brown hair rustled against the bedcovers and the boy timidly looked up to the speaker.

And almost screamed and fainted of shock.

Sitting next to him was _a ghost drenched in blood_. The fact that she was dressed in a black tattered ball gown hardly registered as the sight of dried blood all over the gown overrode all his thoughts. She was standing far enough for him to be able to see her legs- they were half down transparent and her feet and toes was the only visible thing attached to it. The toes were slightly dipped in a small puddle of liquid that looked suspiciously like blood although it was too thick and light textured. The ghost was hovering – no surprise there but it freaked him out nonetheless. Black hair so dark that it was bordering on blue, pooled around her toes in long shiny thick strands and the hair around her scalp was matted in blood. A machete was dug into her skull, and the boy realized in horror that it was the cause of her death.

Her eyebrows were furrowed in discontent and her eyes were flat and grey, yet steely with determination and resolve. Pale lips were rolled into a thin line and her nose was straight and elegant, rounded into a curve at the tip of the nose. Her skin looked sickly white yet elegant- a clashing contrast to her dark hair. Unlike the rest of her appearance, her skin was clean of blood and striking, whereas her hair and ball gown seemed to fade into the darkness.

It was a magical, gruesome sight.

The boy was frozen in fear. He could only stare at the haunting figure with his heart hammering painfully in his chest. The brunet refrained from curling up in a ball, yet alone twitch a single muscle, scared that the ghost may move towards him if he did so. A small whimper escaped his lips and the ghost sighed, noticing his distress.

She was tempted to rake her fingers through her hair, but desisted as it would only draw attention to the knife stuck in her head. Staring straight in his big doe-full eyes she gave a small unnerved smile, desperately hoping that her freaky appearance won't scare him off.

"Hey kiddo," the boy flinched and quivered despite the gentle tone, and the ghost almost sighed in exasperation. _Maybe I should just force him to cooperate with me._ The thought entered her mind but was immediately waved off. Sticking with that kind of method is going to end up bite her ass back in the future.

"You don't have to be scared of me. I won't hurt you." The ghost's smile grew larger and the brunet instantly backed away, afraid to be the one getting the worst end of the stick.

He dived underneath the covers and started to shake uncontrollably. He could feel himself falling into the dark side of insanity as the madness was tearing him inside out. It was all too much, for a frail mind like his to be screwed up from the underworld monstrosities. _No Tsuna, bogeys do not exist. Are you crazy Tsuna? Nobody was shouting "he is dead" at the middle of the night! Stop being such an attention seeker. Enough young Vongola! The mafia boss cannot be as pathetic as to cry over something so stupid!_

Nobody saw the things he could see, and everybody ridiculed him because of it. Whispers and snide remarks would follow him wherever he went and nobody wanted to approach him due to his "illness". He was known as that sick boy in the corner who was desperate for attention. This ghost here is **proof**. Proof that he was not right in the head and proof that he wanted attention.

Something akin to a gentle cool breeze was stroking the brunet's spine as if reassuring him that everything was alright. The boy felt himself relax against the touch and shivered as the hand took it as approval. The covers were slightly lifted the boy felt the cold air lightly wash over his humid skin. Slender arms picked up the timid boy and rocked him gently and slowly, comforting him. What drove the boy to cuddle up to the ghost he first feared a mere moment ago was a mystery to the boy himself, but she sure felt real, ghost or not.

The lady radiated a tranquil aura, and the boy couldn't help but soak in it, relishing the feeling of madness ebb away steadily, leaving an elated feeling of stillness instead. How long has he last felt like this? Too long, that's for sure. If only if his mother had stuck around, then maybe he wouldn't have ended up like this. Stubby fingers curled around the rough fabric, uncaring about the blood as drowsiness slowly crept into mind.

The brunet dosed off in her arms, dead to the world and the ghost couldn't help but sigh. _What is with this kid? Is he bipolar or what? Getting all scared and then sleeping on me, such a silly little boy._ Chiding thoughts swirled in the ghost's mind as she stared down at the curled figure sleeping peacefully in her arms. Gently placing the child back into his bed, she gave him one last rueful look and pulled the blankets over his frail body. _Looks like my work is cut out for me for the next ten years or so._

The ghost turned to leave, fully intending to come back after she sorted out her work, before stubby fingers grabbed the back of her gown. Surprised, the ghost peered over her shoulder to see the boy battling it out with drowsiness, eyes half-lidded and a side of his face squished against the pillow as he struggled with his hold on the ghost.

"Don't…leave…me. I'm…scared." He whispered, tears glistening at the corners of his droopy eyes. The hand dropped from the gown as she turned around, the beads softly clinking against each other. Her cold white hand held the boy's warm ones as she bent down to the boy's face, expression quizzical.

"Are you not scared of me?" The boy gently squeezed the pallid hand, and the sheets rustled as he nodded his head. Such actions only confused the ghost more. The boy was not making any sense to her.

The boy continued, noticing the lady's growing confusion. "But…" he whispered tiredly, a yawn punctuating the middle of his sentence, "I'm not scared of you…much. I just…need someone…scared of…no family…" He mumbled the words, eyelids fluttering shut. The tiny hand relaxed on the grip, and the ghost stared down at their adjoined hands, contemplating.

She shouldn't take the offer. After all, it's better if their relationship stayed mutual for both of their sakes. And if she took him under her wing, it would be as if she had replaced Lacy. No one can replace Lacy, absolutely _no one_.

But then she glanced back at the tiny figure who had reached out to her mere moments ago. He was slumbering his exhaustion away, mouth partly agape as if he still had words to force out. A small, cute bundle of innocence pleading her with all his will to do one measly thing. _Such a miserable boy_, she mused. _To be able to cling onto something so ghastly such as myself in a desperate manner. He really must have been abandoned by his peers._

Mind made up, she placed the hand back under the sheets and floated around the massive bed. She lifted the heavy duvet, taking place right next to the boy, which looked surprisingly spacey despite knowing the fact that a frail little a boy is sleeping on bed fit for ten. _How sad… _

The ghost elegantly slid underneath the duvet, hardly minding the ball gown as she sat up and eyed the boy out of sheer curiosity. Deep brown hair stuck out in odd angles and he had healthy pale skin. Cherubic features such as puffy cheeks and a cute, button nose graced his round face and his small pouty lips was slightly parted. It was an adoring mother's dream come true, this little boy.

Ghosting a hand over his bangs, she bent down and whispered into his ear. "Sawada Tsuna. You are destined for either the greatest of the good, or the lowest of the scum that history has ever had the misfortune of meeting. The choice of empowerment is up to you, and the world is at your hands."

And with that, she turned her back from the sleeping boy, for once in her long life looking forward to a nice peaceful slumber.


End file.
